


To Look Kindly

by TeamGwenee



Series: The Kingslayer's Captive [4]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:46:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 607
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25058686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeamGwenee/pseuds/TeamGwenee
Summary: As they grow closer to King's Landing, Jaime deals with the aftermath of his maiming.
Relationships: Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, minor Cersei Lannister/Jaime Lannister - Relationship
Series: The Kingslayer's Captive [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1814104
Comments: 12
Kudos: 78





	To Look Kindly

“What in the seven hells happened to you?”

Brienne stared sheepishly at the ground, looking for all the world like a naughty young girl in for a chiding, despite her gargantuan height, bruised face and bloodied fists.

“It’s nothing my lord,” she mumbled stiffly.

“You may go,” Jaime said, nodding at the surly faced guards who had brusquely escorted her inside. He wanted to hear the truth from the Wench herself.

“Were you set upon?” Jaime demanded. “Did any of my men try something?”

By the Seven Hells, crippled hand or no crippled hand, he would personally beat them bloody and flay the skins off their back if they did. 

“No,” Brienne said stiffly.

Jaime raised an eyebrow as Brienne steadfastly kept her gaze on the ground. A thick silence hung beneath them for a good two minutes, before Brienne braved meeting his eyes. Jaime fixed her with a withering glare, and a blush rose up Brienne’s cheeks.

“My lady, I may now be as useless as nipples on a breastplate, but I am still commander of this camp and I expect you to respect my right to discipline my men.”

“You are not,” Brienne protested. “Useless I mean.”

“Then please do me the courtesy of telling me why you are standing before me, beaten red and purple?” Jaime demanded.

“The others are worse off,” Brienne muttered sulkily, as though she was offended Jaime would even insinuate otherwise.

“I have no doubt,” Jaime said with a small smile at his lips, his ire dying down. “Now, would you please tell me who the others were, and how you came to blows?”

“They...said things,” Brienne said tentatively. “They said things about you.”

“I think I can guess what they said,” Jaime said wryly. “Cripple and variations thereof, no doubt.”

“They doubted your honour,” Brienne said, a spark lighting in her eyes. “I could not let that stand.”

Jaime found his mouth had gone very dry, and his tongue thick and heavy.

“You can’t challenge every man who questions my honour,” he said at last. “Not if you lived to one hundred.”

“I can make a start,” Brienne said stubbornly.

“Go to the Maester,” Jaime said stiffly. “And see those cuts are tended to. If they get infected and you sicken and start slowing us down, we will leave you here and make our way to King’s Landing without you.”

King’s Landing, Jaime thought as he watched Brienne leave. King’s Landing and father and Tyrion and Cersei.

  
Cersei.

Cersei, she would not call him cripple. Not his twin, his other half. His soul. She would take him into her lovely arms, her golden hair softly falling in waves down her bare back as she pulled him towards her. Just the thought of her touch made Jaime yearn to mount his fastest steed and gallop day and night until he was with her once more. How he long for the smell of her sweet perfume, the wicked curl of her smile, the spark in her dancing green eyes. He could see her so clear, feel her.

She would not look at his ruined hand with contempt or pity, he told himself. She would not scorn him for what he had lost. Her green eyes would grow gentle and sweet, and she would cradle his hand in her own and kiss the scars.

Jaime closed his eyes and tried to picture that also, but he could not quite conjure it. The image looking kindly on his scars slipped through his mind like smoke, and when he tried to see her green eyes grow gentle, he always pictured them as blue. 


End file.
